


From The Desk of Cookie Kingdom

by Lvmine



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/F, F/M, Free Verse, Implied Relationships, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Poetry, Rivalry, i think too much about cookies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 03:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21191063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lvmine/pseuds/Lvmine
Summary: Once there was an ember, then there was ivory.Of course, nothing is ever really set in stone.





	1. Fire Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve decided to compile some poems i’ve written for one of my classes into a fic! all of them have been cr-based so far. these poems are all formed by different prompts, so they’ll be posted with their “rough drafts” in order to make sense!
> 
> this one is based on the hanja run plot bc of course it is!

**ROUGH DRAFT**

_ the prompt: make ten comparisons _

  
You are the scalding flames that plague the valley. You scorch any and all that gets in your way, and yet I am afraid I will freeze without your warmth. You, the embodiment of fire and all that burns, who foolishly insists to have a heart of ice, possesses that same heart which melts at the mere sight of me. You hide the truth under your blazing exterior, committing atrocities that make you feel less guilty compared to if you faced the reality of the state of your heart. Perhaps I am the same way--together we are two sides of a double-edged sword.

You have become my vibrant rose. You are gorgeous, brilliant, and yet I am saddled with thorns if I get too close to you. Like the fireflies that drift past my window, I can only gaze at you from afar--as you do, as well. You fear that if we were ever to meet again, I would melt like candle wax under you, the candlelight, and disappear forever. You only look at me when I am turned away, out of fear that your ember eyes may burn me to dust. 

I see that although I have been scorched to the core, I have burned you beyond compare. I have set your heart aflame--as you did mine--and that blissful fire has consumed your entire being. You are afraid of spreading that fire, of burning me, but when a candle has been lit, it will melt until nothing else remains.

**STEP 2 - REVISING STANZAS**

Though you are more scalding than the valley’s flames,

I fear I may freeze without your warmth.

You say you have a heart of ice--

unfitting for fiery flame, especially

when it melts in my presence.

You hide the cold truth

in your blazing exterior;

perhaps, we are both sides

of a double-edged sword.

From afar, you are my vibrant rose;

upon contact, you prick my fingers.

Like a firefly in the night, I merely

gaze at you from a window’s distance.

Like candle wax under candlelight,

you do not want me to disappear,

for that is why you gaze at me

when I am turned away from you.

You feel guilt out of burning me

when I was the one who set  
your heart aflame; a beastly

fire that consumed the very

essence of your being.

As long as you continue

to avoid your own truth,

this blissful fire will forever

continue to burn.

**FINAL**

_ **Fire Spirit** _

You’re more scalding than flames

that are valley-born, yet I

fear I might freeze

without your warmth.

Your heart of ice is

but a lie, for I 

know it melts in

presence mine.

That blazing exterior of

yours hides the cold truth--

together, we form both sides

of a double-edged sword.

From afar, you are

my vibrant rose.

Upon contact, you

prick my fingers.

Like fireflies in

the night, we gaze

at each other

from a window.

Like a candle wax

under candlelight,

you do not want

me to disappear--

that is why you

gaze at me when

I am turned

away from you.

You feel guilt from

burning me, yet I

was the one who

set your heart aflame.

It consumed both

you and me, and

turned you into

a living flame.

You may try to avoid

the cold truth, but a lit

candle will forever burn

for as long as it’s lit.


	2. Adversary Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victory is supposed to be sweeter than chocolate... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you ever wonder why knight is rivals with white choco?
> 
> also, no one has a clue im writing abt cookies... so collette it is!

**ROUGH DRAFT**

t_he prompt: collect 3-5 moments in a focused-lens view (use 5 senses to collect info)_

12:45 P.M. - Seafoam eyes open to a cracked stone ceiling, squinting due to the invading light that is piercing his vision through the smallest sliver in the window. His arms and legs are bruised and somewhat burnt, each limb delicately wrapped in the finest bandages. Aside from the single ray of light shining in his face, the room is completely dim and full of dust. Beside the bed he resides in is a wooden stool, and on that wooden stool sits one of his fellow knights--a woman who was shielded in an armor that earned her the nickname of “Pistachio.” For the moment she is in her training clothes; her golden-plated armor is nowhere to be seen. 

“I hope you’re able to at least move around,” says Pistachio, her hands poised graciously and patiently over her lap. The knight winces as he makes the pitiful attempt to lift his right arm, sharp shocks of pain coursing through the battered limb. The distant chirping of the outside birds fill in the silence that he refuses to break.

“... why do you say that?” he finally manages to ask, his voice strained.

Pistachio inhales before answering. “Because the tournament is today.”

1:30 P.M. - The quiet clank of metal on stone reverberates throughout the empty corridor. The corridor is illuminated by the light shining through the windows, delaying the sense of urgency that the knight is supposed to be feeling. Pistachio walks slightly ahead of him, making sure that he can still wander without any help. He can tell she is annoyed based on how much force she uses to step on the ground.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she says once they reach the entrance to the grand hall--a large, silver door with a golden handle. “Pride and a petty rivalry is not worth putting yourself through more excruciating pain.” The injured knight frowns as Pistachio looks at him with a worried gaze, remaining silent as he moves past her to open the door. His bones creak and complain with each movement he makes, but he pushes past the pain.

“She wants a tournament--she’ll get a tournament,” he states as if it were obvious, as if he had no choice. The door opens dramatically, revealing a crowd of regally dressed nobles and more of his fellow knights. He turns his head to face Pistachio, who appears to be five seconds away from dragging him back to his bed. He smiles. “And I am not one to back down from a tournament.” With that, he turns away from her to greet the buzzing crowd of people.

5:10 P.M. - The knight’s blade clatters to the ground, its master following soon afterward. The air is damp and dense, practically suffocating the knight as he struggles to lift himself up off the ground. His opponent calmly strides towards him, her movements elegant and concise. She stops where his head lies and leans down, pulling his silver helmet off of his head and exposing his long, messy golden hair. She then grabs him by his hair so that he is just barely looking at her, her mouth set into a thin line. Silence permeates in the sparring room.

“I know you went out hunting last night,” she murmurs accusingly, but she sounds somewhat amused. Her body is slender, clad in the finest of ivory--fit for the greatest fencer in the world. Her short, platinum blonde hair covers part of her face, leaving only a single coal black eye visible. She smiles then, gently releasing the knight’s hair so as not to have him smack his face against the cold ground. “That’s why you’re not in an adequate position to spar, correct?” She is the knight’s greatest rival, a graceful fencer by the name of Collette.

“I put myself through more danger on purpose,” says the knight, grabbing ahold of his sword as he tries to stand. He smirks. “I figured you’d be more of a challenge if I was already injured from the start.” He notices how Collette’s lips twitch as he says that, his smirk only widening.

“I’m glad your sense of humor hasn’t taken any damage!” exclaims Collete as she reveals her own sabre from behind her back, extending it out towards the disheveled knight. His senses are more than overwhelmed by the time he gets back on his feet, briefly swaying as he readies his sword at his side. It is now or never.

“Now, _ allez!” _

**STEP 2 - REVISING STANZAS**

My seafoam eyes open

to a room of dust and

cracked stone. I am

wrapped in the finest

of bandages--constantly.

Pistachio sits patiently

at my side and says:

“I hope you’ll be able to move,

even just a little bit.”

I wince as I lift my burned arm,

asking: “Why do you say that?”

I know all too well. The room

is thick with silence.

‘’Because the tournament is today.”

Battered, burned and worn out,

I drag my weary body behind

Pistachio, who refuses to

look directly at me.

“You don’t have to do this,”

she tells me as we cross the

stone corridor, stopping in front of

silver door of the Grand Hall.

“A petty rivalry is not worth all of this pain.”

I remain silent as I turn the golden handle,

numb to reason. I do not tell her

that I will tolerate anything

to see eye-to-eye with

the princess. I smile and say,

“If she wants a tournament,

she’ll get her tournament.”

The princess cannot look

at me in such a sorry state.

My blade clatters to the ground,

and I alongside with it. My rival,

Collette, speed and elegance

incarnate, towers above me--

perhaps she knows. She throws

off my helmet and grabs me by

my golden hair. “I know

what you did,” says she,

sneering. The air reeks of 

tension and the mere truth.

I rise, blade at the ready,

and stand my ground.

“Now, _ allez! _”

**FINAL**

_ **Adversary Mine** _

Battered, burned, my weary body

drags behind Pistachio, who avoids me.

“Don’t do this,” she says--not the first

time. “A petty rivalry is not worth all

of this pain.” It’s all for the princess,

I tell myself, numb to reason.

My mind reeks of envy--this is

the only way I can express my

true feelings. “If she wants a

tournament, she’ll get her tournament.”

I turn the golden handle of no return.

Clack, clack, clack, there

goes my blade and my pride.

My silver helmet, gone; my

golden hair, gripped between

ivory fingers. The image of my

rival blocks my vision. She

sneers at me, fully aware. 

My princess, I endure

endless agonies and trials

for your hand alone. I am

always by your side, swirls

of pink lace reflected in

my silver armor.

And yet, I find myself at the

mercy of a fencer’s sabre;

your white chocolate vice.

I rise, blade at the ready,

and stand my ground.

“Now, _ allez!_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if i’ll continue to write cr-based poems for my class, so i might just write my own when i have time! feel free to leave suggestions too!
> 
> p.s. i picked the name collette bc it stands for “victory of the people”!


End file.
